


Five times Severus almost kissed Harry (and the one time he did)

by Likelightinglass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Almost Kissing, Feelings, Five And One, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24085456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likelightinglass/pseuds/Likelightinglass
Summary: Severus wants to kiss Harry but doesn't. Eventually, he does.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 48
Kudos: 468





	Five times Severus almost kissed Harry (and the one time he did)

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to friends in the discord who gave me prompt suggestions. I didn't want to choose, so i just did them all. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one! It's short and sweet.

The first time that Severus Snape wants to kiss Harry (but doesn't) it's in Number Twelve Grimmauld, of all the godforsaken places, and it's been a month since he was supposed to die (but didn't do that either). 

The old Order Headquarters had turned into something of an island of misfit toys in the weeks since the final battle, with Potter collecting the injured and broken and out of sorts to convalesce in the dreary old house. Draco, who couldn't bear the thought of spending another second in Malfoy Manor, had claimed birthright to stay in the Black property, not that he needed to convince Harry. He was given the master bedroom. Lavender Brown, face scarred and eyes haunted, learning how to live with being a werewolf, occupied a room on the upper floor. Granger had taken over the study to begin her one woman mission for ministry reform, and she supposedly slept there, although Severus doubted she slept at all. 

Severus himself was only recently allowed to leave his sickbed, his wounds finally settling into dark red ropes of scar around this throat. Tonight, unable to sleep and refusing to pass another night trapped in his bedroom staring at the ceiling, he resolved to wander over to the kitchen and make himself a cup of tea. 

As he drew nearer he heard the murmur of voices engaged in argument, and paused to overhear. 

"Master does not need to be doing his own baking!"

“I told you, I _want to_ , now leave me be, you’ll wake the house.”

The House-Elf and Potter? It was going on three in the morning, why would Potter possibly be preparing food at this hour? He rounded the corner in through the doorway, already scowling at the thought of company. He was barely ever rid of Potter these days, who was there at his bedside when he had awakened, and who had insisted on flitting about the room like an addled bumblebee as often as possible. 

“Professor!” Harry said, nearly dropping the pan in his hands in surprise. “You should be sleeping!”

“I should say the same of you, Potter.” He furrowed his brow. “What are you _doing?_ , he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“I’m making banana muffins,” Harry replied, as if that were the sort of thing people did in the middle of the night.

Severus simply raised an eyebrow in question.  
“I...er, I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you bake?”

Harry shrugged. “So I bake. Keeps my mind occupied. It was either this or go flying, and Hermionie said she’d have my head if I went out in the dark again.”

“Granger always was the reasonable one of your little trio.” Severus sat at the kitchen table with a sigh, too tired to bother arguing. “Well, you can make yourself useful and get me some tea then.

Harry just chuckled, popped the tray of muffins into the oven, and went to make Severus a cuppa. “You really should be sleeping, Sir. You’ve not yet fully recovered, and-”

“I’m fine, Potter,” Severus said sharply. “I’m certainly well enough to get out of your way, so I’ll be returning to my home shortly.”

“You don’t have to!” Harry said, eyes wide. “There’s plenty of space here, and there's a whole giant potions lab you can use if you want. And you like the library, here, don't you? It’s got all sorts of weird, old books and I’m sure most of them aren’t even legal...” Potter trailed off, running his hand through the bramble of dark hair.

“You’re trying to bribe me with a potions lab and illegal artifacts?”

“I just mean...you can stay.” Potter gave a little half smile. “I’d like you to stay. Sir.”

Severus just looked at him, uncomprehending. _”Why?_ You hate me, Potter.”

“I don’t hate you!” He said, bewildered. “I’m so glad you didn’t die.”

Severus couldn’t help but huff a sharp laugh at the statement. “Glad I didn’t die and wanting to be housemates are hardly the same thing. I can’t imagine why I’d want to live in the same home as my former students, particularly the very insufferable Gryffindor before me.”

“Look, Professor,” Harry said, settling into the chair across from him. “I don’t know anything anymore. I can’t sleep, I have no idea what to do next, I bloody died last month, and the only thing that makes any sense right now is making muffins in the middle of the night. I don’t know how I feel about you but I don’t want you dead and I’m glad you're not. Can we just...I don’t know, just agree to not hate each other? Can we start with that?”

Severus bit back a cutting remark and considered the boy’s words. The shadows under his eyes were clearly evident. And he looked so beaten down and weary, that if Severus had a heart (which he was very insistent he didn’t) it would break for him. His debt would never be repaid, it seemed, as the boy clearly required further protecting.

“I don’t hate you, Potter,” Severus said, and he was rewarded with a slight smile.

“I don’t hate you either, Sir.”

It was June, not New Year’s, and mugs of tea in their hands, not champagne flutes, but the moment felt like such a _beginning_ , such a new start, that Severus was suddenly and inexplicably struck with the desire to press his lips to Harry’s and kiss him in celebration. 

What a ludicrous thought. He must still be addled from pain potions.

Instead, he simply nodded in his head, raised his cup to his lips, took a sip, and did not kiss Potter. 

\-------------------

The second time that insane thought infects Severus, he can’t blame it on the pain potions. 

It’s the beginning of the school term, and everyone has relocated to greener pastures. For some it means France, for others the Auror Corps, but for Harry and Severus, it’s back to Hogwarts. He’s pretty sure it’s because they are both loathe to give up the familiar, and Hogwarts will always be home. Minerva was allowing the students in Potter’s year to return and complete their final year of education, and had offered Severus the position of Headmaster, but he’d refused. Back to Potions, back to the dungeons, but things could never quite feel _back to normal_ again. A week goes by and he doesn’t kill anyone, then two, and then a month. Things settle, Severus grades papers, and he finds himself missing the subdued summer he’d spent at Grimmauld Place. 

In fact, he finds himself missing Potter more than he cares to admit. Of course he still saw him in class twice a week, but once one had made a habit of midnight tea and surprisingly engaging conversation, Severus could feel the lack. And the Potter of Hogwarts was different from the Potter of Grimmauld Place. Potter and his never ending nagging at him that he takes his potions, gets enough sleep, gets enough to eat. Potter who wouldn’t do the same until Severus had treated it like a competition. Potter, who had dragged him along to his birthday celebration, insisted Severus be treated by all present like _the hero he was_. Potter who, for unknown reasons, treated him like someone who deserved the time of day.

Potter who was never going to make a career in Potions, clearly, although Severus had to admit he was infinitely more respectful than he’d ever been before. 

One day in late October, Potter stayed behind after class.  
“Professor?” he said, and then hesitated.

“Yes, Potter?” Severus replied, looking up from his desk.

“I was just wondering, if you’d like to come over for dinner on Saturday.”

Severus paused. “On Halloween?” He tensed suddenly. “There is a feast at Hogwarts that day. You have no need to prepare yourself dinner.” 

“I thought maybe... you’d like to spend it with me? We could talk about...or, we wouldn’t have to. But I don’t want to be alone and I don’t want to be in a crowd either, and I wondered if maybe you might feel the same way.”

Severus noted the boy's obvious nervousness. His typical Halloween plans of feeling alone while surrounded by merrymaking and morosely drinking in his quarters held no appeal. Why the boy would possibly want to spend the anniversary of the day he was orphaned with his disagreeable Potions Professor was an obvious sign he was at risk of going round the bend. 

“What time?” Severus said, shuffling papers as if it were not a completely ridiculous idea to accept his invitation. 

“Oh! Er...Seven?” the boy replied. “I’ll have everything ready. You don’t need to bring anything.”

Severus simply nodded, but days later, standing outside Potter’s door, he debated on the merits of bringing a bottle of brandy, or better yet Firewhiskey, certain he’d need something to get him through the unavoidable awkwardness of the evening. 

The House-Elf let him in, grumbling to himself about the indignity of his life and cruelty of Potter, forcing him to stand aside while Master cooked for himself and his guest. 

Severus was brought to the dining room, where Potter was laying out a variety of excellent smelling dishes. 

“I trust you haven’t poisoned us,” Severus said, attempting to start the evening off with a bit of levity. “Is your cooking any better than your potions work?”

“Is that any way to treat your host?” he said teasingly, thankfully playing into the attempt at humour. “I’ll have you know this is a near perfect roast. I’ve got yorkshire pudding, three different veg dishes, and a chocolate torte for afters.”

Severus nodded approvingly and tucked in, pleased to note that Potter had been correct-the dishes were cooked to perfection. He hadn’t had a real homemade meal this delicious in...apparently a very long time, since he couldn’t even remember. He hadn’t expected to have any appetite at all, the day being what it was, but the food was good, and the company was too. He was pleasantly surprised he wasn’t immediately hounded with questions about Lily, or even James, as he had been prepared for. As they neared the end of the meal, chatting pleasantly about all manner of other subjects, Severus decided it was time to address the elephant in the room.

“Potter,” he started, but was immediately interrupted. 

“I think you should call me Harry.”

Severus paused, taken slightly aback. He inclined his head. “Harry. Did you want to...talk about them?”

Harry looked nervous. “We don’t have to. If it’s too painful.”

“James put your birth announcement in the paper,” Severus said abruptly. “I have no idea what was so remarkable about you at three days old, but the announcement took up a full column instead of the usual few sentences. He loved you very much.”

“Oh,” Harry said, obviously taken aback.

Severus shifted uncomfortably. “I couldn’t tell you what it said, precisely, I didn’t...read it. But. He loved you, and he loved your mother very much. I’m sorry I don’t have any better stories for you. You are...quite aware of our history.”

“Thank you,” Harry said softly. “For finding something nice to say.”

Severus just shrugged, took a gulp of wine and looked away. “Well. Lily liked to collect bottle caps, and paint her nails all different colors, and dance along to muggle records. When we were twelve, we--” he swallowed suddenly. It was still painful to talk about, so many years later. But her son would want to know, had invited him over for this purpose no doubt, and he owed it to him to--

“Hey,” Harry said, covering his hand with his own. Severus hadn't noticed how tightly his fingers had been pressed into the table. He relaxed slightly into the feeling of the warm hand over his own, the gentleness of the touch. “You don’t have to talk about her. Or him. Or anything.”

“But you want--”

“To hear about them? Sure. From you, maybe, when you want to. I don’t want you to be forced to dredge up painful memories for my benefit.”

“What do you want then?”  
Harry shrugged, and smiled sadly. “To have dinner with you. And be sad together. And probably drown our sorrows in chocolate torte. I’ve made quite a lot of it, actually.”

Severus cleared his throat, but did not move, and did not remove his hand from Harry’s loose clasp. Instead he slowly twisted his palm up, giving Harry’s hand a slight squeeze.

“Thank you,” he said, immeasurably grateful for Harry’s compassion. He was stuck by that thought again, that ridiculous notion that he wanted very much to kiss him for it.

But, of course, he didn’t.

\-------------------

In a display of shortsightedness entirely unbecoming a former triple agent spy, it was December 24th and Severus had still not got a Christmas gift for Harry.

It wasn’t for lack of desire. Severus was aware the Christmas gifts were a thing people usually did for...people...who were held in a certain esteem in people’s lives. Or something. And whatever Harry was, he was someone who was likely expecting a Christmas gift, and even worse, seemed to be the type to get Severus one. 

The trouble was, Severus was absolutely miserable at giving gifts. Of course, he was familiar with the concept. He sent mid quality alcohol to people he needed to send _something_ to, and higher quality alcohol to people who were...friends. Usually he tried to just wheedle out some basic needs (new quill set for Filius, paper large enough for star charts for Sinistra) and purchase that. The last time he’d attempted a personal gift with any degree of success was probably Lily, who Severus had gifted with several unusually shaped leaves he declared the same color as her eyes on her tenth birthday. “Ummm...thank you, Severus,” she had said with an awkward tilt to her head, and he’d been so embarrassed he’d sworn off anything not store bought ever after.

But now it was very nearly Christmas, and even more nearly when Harry was expecting him to come round for drinks and he had to show up with _something_. He had thought about a broom, or broom accoutrements, but that seemed too cliche. Food and drink were too impersonal, although since when he cared about impersonal, he couldn’t say. He’d worked himself up into a tizzy, agonizing more over a gift for Harry than he had for any gift for any person before. 

Finally, unable to put off leaving any longer, he decided to just give in to his original gift idea. He had dismissed it out of hand weeks ago as too foolish, and that Harry would probably laugh at him, but he was left with no other option. Weeks of searching and shopping hadn’t found him anything perfect enough. Perhaps Harry would simply appreciate the thought and dismiss it as a joke gift. People did that sort of thing, didn’t they? Friends did?

Severus located what he was looking for, then added a second one at the last moment. He hastily wrapped them as a set and made his way to Harry’s home, determined to leave it and be gone before Harry could open it.

But best laid plans being what they were, and Severus’ luck being what it was, Severus found himself alone with Harry in the library, the party continuing without them outside, when he idiotically presented the wrapped bundle. “Oh, Happy Christmas, Harry,” he said, very casually, in a very casual way.

He had expected a polite thank you, but of course the idiotic boy grinned, his face lighting up like the tree in the drawing room.

“You got me something! May I open it now?”

“If you wish,” he said, stupidly. “It isn’t...I hope you will find it useful.”

“School books?” Harry said, tearing through the hastily applied wrapping paper. He chuckled. “What an appropriate gift, Professor.” He studied the titles. “For Defence and...History of Magic? Do you think I’m doing so poorly?” he asked, his tone light and teasing. 

“Impossible to admit you didn’t benefit from my Potions book, so perhaps you will find the notes here equally helpful.

Harry’s eyes went wide and Severus could not comprehend the sudden look of excitement on his face. “Wait, are these--” he opened the front cover and his face broke into another grin. “Property of the Half-Blood Prince.”

“I trust you won’t go trying any spells you come across in there this time,” Severus said, in a tone he hoped was stern. 

But Harry just continued smiling, and moved closer to him. He leaned in, as if he was about to let Severus in on a great secret. “Do you know what my friends used to say in sixth year? About the Half-Blood Prince?”

“What?” Severus asked, curious. He was unaware anyone else besides Harry knew about all the undignified scribbling in his old Potions book. 

Harry just turned a bit, a soft smile on his face, and slowly made his way out the door. He turned back at the last moment. 

“They said I was in love with him.” 

And whether Severus wanted to kiss Harry at that moment (he very much did) was completely irrelevant, as he found himself quite unable to move for the next several minutes. 

\-------------------

That ridiculous idea that had only been the occasional passing fancy before took hold of Severus’ mind that day and refused to let go. 

Suddenly he was going over every one of Harry’s actions in a new light. He had been invited to several more dinners, been gifted with all manner of new potions vials and ingredients after Harry’s frequent visits to Hogsmeade, and, most bewildering, been the recipient of glances and smiles in the classroom, the great hall, the corridors.

It made absolutely no sense and Severus was acting like a bloody teenager with a crush, emotions he’d long thought dead creeping up to the surface whenever green eyes and bright grins pointed themselves in his direction. 

He kept telling himself that Harry was simply very friendly and very kind, and Severus had not known much friendship or kindness in his life so of course he was likely to misinterpret the feelings. Harry would be horrified, he told himself, if he had any idea the lecherous, perverse thoughts that were running through his head. 

Although they weren’t perverse at all, if Severus was being honest. In fact, what was the most disgusting was how utterly sappy and romantic his thoughts were. He wanted to hold Harry, wanted to run his fingers through that wild mop of hair, and make breakfast and argue over something idiotic before making up with a kiss. How pathetic, how asinine he was, he berated himself, for even giving it a thought. 

Until something happened that proved Harry’s feelings for Severus were very much genuine, or else Harry had very certainly gone barking mad and required professional help.

Severus was leaning towards the latter. 

The beginning days of Spring were finally upon them and Severus was lurking in the courtyard, soaking up the weak rays of sun poking through the clouds, grateful the bitterness of winter was beginning to fall away. It was Easter hols so the school was moderately empty for the week, and Severus reveled in having the large open area all to himself. Until, of course, Harry appeared, as if conjured from Severus’ thoughts. 

“Hullo, Professor.”

“Harry,” Severus replied, inclining his head in greeting.

“It’s nice out today,” Harry said, seating himself on the edge of the fountain next to Severus. 

“Hmmm,” Severus said, eyes still closed to the sunlight, his face upturned. He risked a glance to Harry after a few moments, and was startled at the look of genuine affection on Harry’s face. Severus schooled his features and continued looking straight ahead. 

“What have been up to?”

“Actually,” Harry said with a nervous laugh. “I got a tattoo. Just finished.”

“A tattoo?” Severus said, turning his head in surprise. He quite liked tattoos, he thought idly, although the dark mark had soured him a bit on acquiring any of his own. “Of what?”

“Well, I wanted something significant. A reminder of a moment I really wanted to remember. Something hopeful.”

Severus couldn’t understand why Harry was looking so hesitant. It was as good a reason as any to get a tattoo. “So what, do you have a lion or something, for house pride? A hippogriff?”

“Not quite.” Harry removed his jacket, and after hesitating a moment lifted his shirt sleeve to reveal the ink on his upper arm. Severus first noted that it was quite skilled and an attractive design, before realizing what it _was_.

A doe, standing serenely on a bed of ice. The sword of Gryffindor poised triumphantly in the background. Severus simply stared, but Harry did not move to cover it.

“Did I ever tell you about that night? You must have been nearby, weren’t you?”

Severus swallowed. “Had to make sure you actually managed it.”

“I knew as soon as I saw your Patronus that I could trust it. It was so beautiful, so pure and lovely, and I knew I could follow it. It gave me hope. All that time in the woods, Ron had left, I didn’t know if we were going to make it. But--”

Severus had unconsciously reached out to trace the tattoo on Harry’s skin while he was speaking. His fingertips hovered over the doe, barely touching.

Harry smiled. “I trusted it immediately. I trust you,” Harry said, and Severus knew it was the truth. They stayed still, locked in place for several more moments. But before he could decide what to do when Harry slowly, cautiously leaned forward, their lips inches apart, a burst of chattering laughter sounded from around the wall. 

Severus pulled back, tuning towards the noise. Just a handful of students, too far away to have seen them, but the moment was broken. Severus stood up quickly.

“You-- _your tattoo_ is beautiful. The artist is very skilled.”

He withdrew before Harry could react. He wanted very, very much to grab hold of him and kiss him.

But, of course, he didn’t. 

\-------------------

The moment in the courtyard led to a comment in the hall between classes, a lingering look over dinner, a hand pressed to his when walking. A litany of looks and smiles and light touches one after another until Severus convinced himself he was living in some kind of dream. 

The N.E.W.T.s had just finished, students lingering in the sunshine of late May along the lakeshore, enjoying the final days at Hogwarts between final exams and the official end of term.

In one of his moments of sudden and extreme lunacy (and Severus found he was having quite a lot of those lately), he had invited Harry with him to gather a supply of heather from the forest. Since it might take some time and they would be missing lunch in the Great Hall, well surely it wasn’t unreasonable of him to have brought along a blanket and some food, was it?

Harry seemed to be pleasantly surprised by it, anyway, and the toothy grin and quick bite to a bottom lip sent a surge of warmth through his chest.

“You’ve brought me out on a picnic,” Harry said.

“I have provided you food in exchange for helping me gather ingredients.”

“Ah,” said Harry with a knowing look. “Yes, eating food from a basket in a field of wildflowers is exactly a standard business lunch, I see that now.”

Severus simply toyed with the crust on his sandwich, unwilling to admit that he’d always wanted to take someone on a picnic and never had the chance. 

“It’s almost, I think some might say… _romantic_.”

“Do you think so?” Severus said nonchalantly. He became very interested in his apple, making half moon cuts into the skin with his fingernails.

“We can just lay here in the sun, though,” Harry said, leaning back and resting his head on Severus’ knee. “And not say things we aren’t ready to say, if you like.”

“What types of things?” Severus asked, clearing his throat, and tentatively laying his hand on Harry’s head. He began to twist his fingers lightly through his hair, and Harry leaned into the touch with a smile on his face. 

“Just if you _did_ want this to be a romantic sort of picnic, which of course I’m sure it isn’t,” Harry took hold of Severus’ hand, which had stilled in his hair, and made a little motion to indicate he should continue stroking. “If you did want that, I think I’d very much like it.”

“Ah,” said Severus, heart in his throat and unwilling to say anymore. He very much wanted to kiss Harry, and very nearly did so, but he found himself too overcome with the scent of wildflowers, the tune of birdsong, and the feel of Harry’s warm skin beneath his fingertips to risk breaking the spell he’d surely been put under. 

\-------------------

The graduation ceremony was a particularly celebratory one, with a far larger class than usual, containing the expected seventh years as well as the returning eighth year students. 

Severus had found, rather guiltily, that he couldn’t keep his eyes off Harry the whole time. He had the start of a neat, black beard framing his jaw, the beginning of summer bringing a golden tan to his face. What was surprising though, was that it appeared Harry couldn’t quite keep his eyes off _him_ , because everytime he found himself glancing in his direction, he met the vibrant green eyes staring right back at him.

As the graduates broke off, meeting family and friends, shooting streamers and sparks into the air, making plans to celebrate that evening, Harry made his way straight to Severus, who had moved off nearer to the forest line, away from the hustle and bustle of giddy students and teary eyed staff. 

“Are you going to let me kiss you then?” Harry said by way of greeting.

Severus froze. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Well, that is what you were waiting for, isn’t it? Me to graduate?” Harry bit his lip, the little minx. “Very noble of you, Professor.”

Severus winced. “Please don’t call me Professor if you’re going to...say things like that.”

“Don’t you want to kiss me?” Harry moved closer, and Severus would say he was far too confident for his own good if he wasn’t exactly correct. 

This is an absolutely ludicrous idea, Severus thought to himself. Quite terrible. Harry is going to realize he deserves far, far better than the greasy, old dungeon bat and it’s going to _ruin you_. 

But the boy...no, _the man_ standing in front of him was very beautiful, and very eager, and Severus wanted to kiss him very, very much.

So he straightened his back, threw his courage to the sticking place, and finally gave in to that ridiculous, idiotic idea, and kissed Harry for all he was worth.


End file.
